I come across some spare time and suddenly remember, I have a blog! It's been ages since I looked at it, so I decide to visit the blog, and realise it's been months since my last update!
Of course, it's been an enlightening duration. Over the last few months, I've reflected upon my life, done some soul searching, gone through ups and downs...
After a lot of crazy days, I woke up one day wondering what I was doing with my life. I guess that question pops up in my head every now and then. But I choose to ignore it. However, this time, I couldn't shake it off that easily. It kept nagging me, creeping into my mind when I least expected it to, until I realised I had to do something about it. I spoke to friends and family, hoping to get an outsider's perspective on my life. If I rely on my own judgement, I'm likely to look for a solution to the problem in the bottom of a bottle.
I did get a lot of 'feedback' from my friends, mostly all negative. Apparently, I was living recklessly. So I decided to give myself a time-out. Enough with the hustle-bustle. Enough with living life one day at a time. I needed a clearer picture. I needed answers.
Of course, I was not about to pull an Elizabeth Gilbert and travel around the world for some soul-searching. I don't have that kind of leisure time, nor do I have a publisher willing to finance my travels. So I opted for a quicker, cheaper, more effective method - 10 days at a Vipassana Centre in Igatpuri.
Everyone was shocked when I broke the news. Those who knew me well were confident that I wouldn't last a day. And it is quite easy to make that assumption. My weekends are a booze-filled blur, my meals are incomplete without meat and I cannot live without my cell phone. I had to give all that up. For 10 days. I can't make it to 10 minutes without my phone.
I knew it was going to be a challenge. And I love challenges. But this was a completely different one. 10 days away from civilisation. If a war broke out, I wouldn't know, because I would be living in this isolated little place nestled among the mountains.
Before I left, I made the most of my reckless lifestyle.I drank and ate to my heart's content, did a lot of things I'm not all that proud of, and worked like there was no tomorrow. And finally, one day, I packed my bags and set off to this new adventure.
When I arrived there, I was fascinated to see the crowd. 'It cannot be that bad,' I thought to myself. And surprisingly, it wasn't.
After a day or two, I got used to not having my cell phone around. The place requires you to maintain silence, and I realised how it gave me time to dwell on my thoughts without any external interruption. The peace and quiet was something I had never experienced before. No buzzing cell phones or blaring car horns. Just peace.Complete silence.
During these 10 days, I learnt to live with myself. And I congratulate all those who have lived with me so far, because I realise it isn't an easy task. I began to accept my faults, and worked on ways to improve them, instead of ignoring them all together. I managed to answer all the doubts I had in mind, and above all else, I manged to calm down. For the first time in ages, my thoughts were not fuelled by my emotions. I was thinking clearly, independently.
When I got back to life as we know it, I wondered how long this phase would last. When isolated from the world, all that I learned helped me keep an open mind. But how would it help me when I got back into the real world, where a distracting influential factor aweaited at every corner, waiting to sway my mind.
I got back knowing one thing - my happiness and my misery depended entirely upon me. I had to choose between them. And for once, I chose happiness. And it did come my way. In hoards. Sure, a lot of things are just the same. There are ups and downs all along the way. But at the end of each day, I now go to bed thanking God for all the good things I have. I wake up each morning hoping that the day will turn out to be a good one. And it does.
This happiness sure is addictive. But it is appreciated. And it's been a long time coming. I do hope that everyone shares this happiness some day.
Hakuna Matata!
Jul 10, 2012
Dec 20, 2011
Distracted and Deranged
Once again, it has been a long time since I ranted here. I can't help it, I'm going to blame Twitter for distracting me. For some reason, it's got me more hooked than Facebook. Sometimes, I feel my Facebook page is crying out to me, begging me to update my status, but I guiltily look away and proceed to sharing pictures and wishing people (If it weren't for Facebook, everyone would be pissed at me for forgetting their birthdays).
That's not the only thing that has been distracting me though. I've got another addiction - T.V. shows. Not the mindless Saas-Bahu crap, that is best left to its pathetic audience. My addiction is Dexter, Homeland, and recently, The Big Bang Theory. Needless to say, I've been busy watching episode after episode, leaving me with very little time to write here. I was discussing blogs yesterday when I suddenly remembered I have one of own. And I felt it calling out to me like a little lost child in a fair, calling out to its mommy. So here I am, putting work aside for a bit to connect with my dearly beloved blog and write some of my usual nonsense.
Actually, I do have something important to say. I need to thank someone. The creators of The Big Bang Theory. For creating a character like Sheldon Cooper. The Sheldon Coopers of the world make me feel happy about myself. They make me realise I'm not that deranged after all. Just the other day, I was almost about to fall asleep when my sister asked me, "What is the name of Ron Weasley's favourite Quidditch team?" And without a moment's hesitation, I prompted, "Chudley Cannons." At 12:30 am.
For a moment, I felt proud of my Harry Potter IQ. Then, it struck me. I needed a life. I'm 24 years old, I need to have prompt responses about financial investments or politics or other crap adults talk about. But I don't know shit about all those things. I stopped growing (mentally, not physically. Physically, I add an interesting number of kilos to my ever-widening frame on a yearly basis) a long time ago. Spot me among a group of adults and I'm the one lost in a parallel universe, barely talking, only shaking my head and provding the occasional 'so true' when social decorum requires it. But throw me among a group of kids, adolescents specifically, and I can carry out a lively conversation about things everyone understands.
Again, not my fault. I can't understand numbers, I don't give a fuck about politics and the investment experts can kiss my broke ass. What I do understand is that a world filled with fantasies is way better than reality. What I also understand is that parties are the place to crack a few jokes about the Kardashians, bitch about work and pass filthy comments about people I don't like. My mother's birthday party had her friends discussing relatives in the hospital and death and such other matters that made me drink a little more than I intended to. Good for me, I can maintain sobriety even at my drunken best. Although I should've let my wild side show just a little bit. Would have added some much needed life to the party.
And with this soberly drunken note, I choose to end this post. Not because I'm out of thoughts. Because people are beginning to notice me smiling weirdly at my machine, and if I do that for too long, I'm going to be saddled with work. So Adios, friends and foes. Until next time. Hopefully that's before the year ends.
That's not the only thing that has been distracting me though. I've got another addiction - T.V. shows. Not the mindless Saas-Bahu crap, that is best left to its pathetic audience. My addiction is Dexter, Homeland, and recently, The Big Bang Theory. Needless to say, I've been busy watching episode after episode, leaving me with very little time to write here. I was discussing blogs yesterday when I suddenly remembered I have one of own. And I felt it calling out to me like a little lost child in a fair, calling out to its mommy. So here I am, putting work aside for a bit to connect with my dearly beloved blog and write some of my usual nonsense.
Actually, I do have something important to say. I need to thank someone. The creators of The Big Bang Theory. For creating a character like Sheldon Cooper. The Sheldon Coopers of the world make me feel happy about myself. They make me realise I'm not that deranged after all. Just the other day, I was almost about to fall asleep when my sister asked me, "What is the name of Ron Weasley's favourite Quidditch team?" And without a moment's hesitation, I prompted, "Chudley Cannons." At 12:30 am.
For a moment, I felt proud of my Harry Potter IQ. Then, it struck me. I needed a life. I'm 24 years old, I need to have prompt responses about financial investments or politics or other crap adults talk about. But I don't know shit about all those things. I stopped growing (mentally, not physically. Physically, I add an interesting number of kilos to my ever-widening frame on a yearly basis) a long time ago. Spot me among a group of adults and I'm the one lost in a parallel universe, barely talking, only shaking my head and provding the occasional 'so true' when social decorum requires it. But throw me among a group of kids, adolescents specifically, and I can carry out a lively conversation about things everyone understands.
Again, not my fault. I can't understand numbers, I don't give a fuck about politics and the investment experts can kiss my broke ass. What I do understand is that a world filled with fantasies is way better than reality. What I also understand is that parties are the place to crack a few jokes about the Kardashians, bitch about work and pass filthy comments about people I don't like. My mother's birthday party had her friends discussing relatives in the hospital and death and such other matters that made me drink a little more than I intended to. Good for me, I can maintain sobriety even at my drunken best. Although I should've let my wild side show just a little bit. Would have added some much needed life to the party.
And with this soberly drunken note, I choose to end this post. Not because I'm out of thoughts. Because people are beginning to notice me smiling weirdly at my machine, and if I do that for too long, I'm going to be saddled with work. So Adios, friends and foes. Until next time. Hopefully that's before the year ends.
Oct 11, 2011
Dear Eddie
This is a poem I wrote for a friend who began sulking just because we played an interesting prank on him. He can be quite the drama queen, so I wrote a poem as an apology.
This poem is dedicated to my personal Google
We’re sorry we pranked you.
Instead we should’ve thanked you
For being such a lovely friend.
For constantly entertaining us
And always advising us.
On you we completely depend.
Oh Eddie forgive us.
Be nice and talk to us.
For what joy can come from being mad?
Our sense of humour is sick.
Our heads are awfully thick.
And we’re sorry we pranked you so bad.
This poem is dedicated to my personal Google
We’re sorry we pranked you.
Instead we should’ve thanked you
For being such a lovely friend.
For constantly entertaining us
And always advising us.
On you we completely depend.
Oh Eddie forgive us.
Be nice and talk to us.
For what joy can come from being mad?
Our sense of humour is sick.
Our heads are awfully thick.
And we’re sorry we pranked you so bad.
Holidays
I love mid-week holidays. I do. I love them more than I love the lasagne at Mocambo's. And I usually plan to do lots on a holiday. And surprise surprise, it never goes as planned.
After working for two years at a place where planning is as important to work as the Bible is to Christians, I should know that I never end up sticking to the damn plan. EVER. Everytime a holiday approaches, I have grand plans of -
1. cleaning my room until it's fit to be a part of the Buckingham Palace
2. going out for a long, lazy lunch, followed by a nice afternoon browsing through books
3. a refreshing nap
4. a walk down Marine Drive
5. catching up with friends
6. watching a movie and
7. visiting the nearest dessert place.
Now this may seem achievable to normal people. But for me, this would require a whole week. I'll tell you why -
On a holiday, I tend to start my day only around noon. There goes the cleaning plan. When you wake up at 12, there is only so much time you can spare to clean your room. All I do is look around the room, carelessly shrug and think to myself, 'it isn't that dirty' and fall back into bed. After what seems like a monstrous effort, I get out and forget all about stepping out for lunch, heading straight to the dining room and gobbling whatever's been cooked. Browsing at bookstores is completely forgotten as I head back to bed for a ridiculously long nap.
Before I know it, the day is almost coming to an end. I wake up around 6 pm, with a massive sleep-induced headache, only to realise that a walk is about to make me feel worse (my medical theories will baffle all practitioners, but they actually work on me). So I stay at home, reading a book I've probably read a 100 times before. Friends can catch up with me via texts or emails; I'm no longer in the mood to step outside my room.
And just like that, the holiday is over. It's time to get back to work. Sleep is no longer my constant companion, it evades me until the wee hours of morning and returns on a holiday. I'm starting to think my brain hates me. Which is why it puts me through crazy bouts of insomnia all through the week, then makes me sleep all day long on a holiday only to make my head hurt worse than a hangover. I think it's revenge for making my brain work overtime, thanks to the ADHD.
Now that I have a 5-day holiday coming up, I'm about to plan realistically - I will visit my parents, laze all day, plop down on the couch and watch TV while my mother happily lectures me on my ever-expanding waistline and engage in pointless arguments with my father. That seems easily achievable, don't you think?
After working for two years at a place where planning is as important to work as the Bible is to Christians, I should know that I never end up sticking to the damn plan. EVER. Everytime a holiday approaches, I have grand plans of -
1. cleaning my room until it's fit to be a part of the Buckingham Palace
2. going out for a long, lazy lunch, followed by a nice afternoon browsing through books
3. a refreshing nap
4. a walk down Marine Drive
5. catching up with friends
6. watching a movie and
7. visiting the nearest dessert place.
Now this may seem achievable to normal people. But for me, this would require a whole week. I'll tell you why -
On a holiday, I tend to start my day only around noon. There goes the cleaning plan. When you wake up at 12, there is only so much time you can spare to clean your room. All I do is look around the room, carelessly shrug and think to myself, 'it isn't that dirty' and fall back into bed. After what seems like a monstrous effort, I get out and forget all about stepping out for lunch, heading straight to the dining room and gobbling whatever's been cooked. Browsing at bookstores is completely forgotten as I head back to bed for a ridiculously long nap.
Before I know it, the day is almost coming to an end. I wake up around 6 pm, with a massive sleep-induced headache, only to realise that a walk is about to make me feel worse (my medical theories will baffle all practitioners, but they actually work on me). So I stay at home, reading a book I've probably read a 100 times before. Friends can catch up with me via texts or emails; I'm no longer in the mood to step outside my room.
And just like that, the holiday is over. It's time to get back to work. Sleep is no longer my constant companion, it evades me until the wee hours of morning and returns on a holiday. I'm starting to think my brain hates me. Which is why it puts me through crazy bouts of insomnia all through the week, then makes me sleep all day long on a holiday only to make my head hurt worse than a hangover. I think it's revenge for making my brain work overtime, thanks to the ADHD.
Now that I have a 5-day holiday coming up, I'm about to plan realistically - I will visit my parents, laze all day, plop down on the couch and watch TV while my mother happily lectures me on my ever-expanding waistline and engage in pointless arguments with my father. That seems easily achievable, don't you think?
Sep 9, 2011
My Dad's on Facebook...
A few months ago, if someone told me that my Dad's going to be using his Facebook account, I would have laughed hysterically. My dad's not the type to update statuses, post pictures, befriend people he knows and so on. Sure, I get some of my 'crazy' genes from him; he is often heard declaring that he will remain '18 till I die'. Not surprising. But the age doesn't really help him improve his technological IQ.
Of course, he knows the basics. But his idea of optimium computer use is probably hours of playing Free Cell. It always amuses me when he discovers a 'new' aspect of the internet. A few years ago, he couldn't quite comprehend why the videos on Youtube would just pause randomly while playing. I explained the 'buffering' idea, and what a conversation it was! He seemed to think it was some kind of miracle! It still amuses me when he calls me up every other day to talk about some new site that he discovered, and I have to burst his little bubble of joy and warn him about internet scams.
If I look at it from a different perspecitve, I see a role-reversal happening. There was a time when I asked questions galore, and Dad patiently answered them (often not very seriously though). I would discover something I thought was unheard of, until my Dad would very sweetly tell me that it had been around for centuries. And now, I update him on the evolving world of technology...not that my knowledge of it is vast and unlimited. To my geek friends, I am a tech-blonde (pardon the stereotypes, I can't always be politically correct). But it's always fun to hear from Dad when he tells me about a new website that he discovered, or some other new thing he learned.
The weirdest though, was when he told me he logged into Facebook. Over a year ago, I helped him create a Facebook profile. I didn't see the dangers of having him on my friend list back then. All I thought was, "Huh! It's not like he's about to check updates on a daily basis'. A year later, he proved me wrong.
I was talking to him the other day when he commented on my profile picture. I stood up with a jolt and wondered how the hell he saw it. Not like I post questionable pictures, just insane ones. The picture we're talking about right now, is me wearing a 'Mickey Ears' hat. No pun intended, but my Dad had fun taking the mickey out of me on that one.
I started asking him if he read any of my updates, and of course, he had. Which means I need to start behaving myself on Facebook now. No more creative abusing. I need to tread lightly. Of course, I can always do that on my blog. He has no clue I have one. I think my lunatic adventures can seek a safe shelter in this space.
Good luck finding this one, Dad :)
Of course, he knows the basics. But his idea of optimium computer use is probably hours of playing Free Cell. It always amuses me when he discovers a 'new' aspect of the internet. A few years ago, he couldn't quite comprehend why the videos on Youtube would just pause randomly while playing. I explained the 'buffering' idea, and what a conversation it was! He seemed to think it was some kind of miracle! It still amuses me when he calls me up every other day to talk about some new site that he discovered, and I have to burst his little bubble of joy and warn him about internet scams.
If I look at it from a different perspecitve, I see a role-reversal happening. There was a time when I asked questions galore, and Dad patiently answered them (often not very seriously though). I would discover something I thought was unheard of, until my Dad would very sweetly tell me that it had been around for centuries. And now, I update him on the evolving world of technology...not that my knowledge of it is vast and unlimited. To my geek friends, I am a tech-blonde (pardon the stereotypes, I can't always be politically correct). But it's always fun to hear from Dad when he tells me about a new website that he discovered, or some other new thing he learned.
The weirdest though, was when he told me he logged into Facebook. Over a year ago, I helped him create a Facebook profile. I didn't see the dangers of having him on my friend list back then. All I thought was, "Huh! It's not like he's about to check updates on a daily basis'. A year later, he proved me wrong.
I was talking to him the other day when he commented on my profile picture. I stood up with a jolt and wondered how the hell he saw it. Not like I post questionable pictures, just insane ones. The picture we're talking about right now, is me wearing a 'Mickey Ears' hat. No pun intended, but my Dad had fun taking the mickey out of me on that one.
I started asking him if he read any of my updates, and of course, he had. Which means I need to start behaving myself on Facebook now. No more creative abusing. I need to tread lightly. Of course, I can always do that on my blog. He has no clue I have one. I think my lunatic adventures can seek a safe shelter in this space.
Good luck finding this one, Dad :)
Aug 27, 2011
Aah, rains!
It's a lovely Saturday afternoon...lovely for those who aren't working. The weather couldn't get any better. It's dark and gloomy and pouring steadily. Call me morbid, but I'd pick the dull, gloomy weather over sunshine any day. That's how much I love the rains. And yet here I am, updating my blog as I pretend to work, instead of splashing around in the puddles made by the rain.
All I long to do right now is go home, tuck in with a steaming mug of adrak chai and my book. I'm reading 'Game of Thrones' right now, and it is really difficult to put that book down!
For now, I'm trying to concentrate on work. I'm not just saying this in case someone from work is reading this article, I genuinely am trying. But there's way too many distractions. The rain outside, for one. And the bacon sandwich on my table. My neighbour, quite correctly labelled as my evil twin. And of course, twitter. I love twitter. I may not tweet that often, but I love reading funny tweets. This doesn't mean I'm cheating on facebook. I still like facebook. Twitter is just a welcome change, and a little more acceptable (read: unheard of) at work.
I've procrastinated enough. I must get back to work, if I want to leave at an acceptable time. Chow, for now.
All I long to do right now is go home, tuck in with a steaming mug of adrak chai and my book. I'm reading 'Game of Thrones' right now, and it is really difficult to put that book down!
For now, I'm trying to concentrate on work. I'm not just saying this in case someone from work is reading this article, I genuinely am trying. But there's way too many distractions. The rain outside, for one. And the bacon sandwich on my table. My neighbour, quite correctly labelled as my evil twin. And of course, twitter. I love twitter. I may not tweet that often, but I love reading funny tweets. This doesn't mean I'm cheating on facebook. I still like facebook. Twitter is just a welcome change, and a little more acceptable (read: unheard of) at work.
I've procrastinated enough. I must get back to work, if I want to leave at an acceptable time. Chow, for now.
Aug 26, 2011
I'm Confused
Isn't it tough, when you gotta choose,
between a slice of cheesecake and gooey chocolate mousse?
When you're late for a party and pulling out your hair,
'cause you just can't figure out what the heck to wear?
When you're at the cash counter and really can't decide,
if those boots will look better in black or tanned hide.
Here's what works for me, it's a simple trick to try,
Just pull out a coin and flip it, before you start to cry.
Confusion makes you crazy, it messes with your head,
It makes you think you're better off without it instead.
But don't you worry, confusion isn't all that strong,
Just flip the coin and choose a side and watch it run along.
My Dear Umbridge
My dear crazy lady,
Why are you so shady?
You seem to be on a war path.
Your acquaintances seem to hate you
Your friends secretly despise you,
You're not considering the aftermath.
But let me tell you this,
you're falling in an abyss
For karma can be a total bitch.
Your evil plan will fail
We'll watch you wail,
And this time, I don't think there's a glitch.
Why are you so shady?
You seem to be on a war path.
Your acquaintances seem to hate you
Your friends secretly despise you,
You're not considering the aftermath.
But let me tell you this,
you're falling in an abyss
For karma can be a total bitch.
Your evil plan will fail
We'll watch you wail,
And this time, I don't think there's a glitch.
Eerily Calm
A lot has happened over the past two months...and it has been enough to push me off the edge into an abyss of insanity. I've been scarily close to a breakdown, I could almost see it happening. And yet, it disturbs me how eerily calm I feel. There's anger in me, some say I'm a volcano ready to erupt. I feel like there is a pot of anger boiling over, and yet, when it comes to letting it out, I just can't seem to do it. I wonder why...
My friends are treading on eggshells around me, and they've admitted to it. Everyone's expecting a breakdown of some sort. I often wonder, should I give in? But something has kept me calm through these turbulent times, and I think I should place my faith in that unknown strength. The calm is scary, but it's comforting.
Shit, I just realised...this sounds way too corny. Stopping now!!!
My friends are treading on eggshells around me, and they've admitted to it. Everyone's expecting a breakdown of some sort. I often wonder, should I give in? But something has kept me calm through these turbulent times, and I think I should place my faith in that unknown strength. The calm is scary, but it's comforting.
Shit, I just realised...this sounds way too corny. Stopping now!!!
Jul 6, 2011
Drunken. Disturbed. Deranged.
It's mental, the title, but I can't figure what else describes the state I’m in. Some say it's scary, I say it's fun. I don't mind the mood swings. The silliest of things will cheer me up during the dullest of moments. Sure these silly things are hard to find on a tough day, but they do appear...just like a bright ray of sunshine every morning. All you have to do is spot it. And that's what matters.
The past few days, weeks, even months, have been a blur. Work has taken over my life. I may say I don't care, but I do. I care more than I should. I care enough to lose sleep over a missing word here and there. I care enough to show up even if I'm feeling sick. I care enough to stay back every single day. Not like it gets in the way. I'd rather slave away than socialise, because I don't have to wear a fake smile and passable clothes for my work date - my beloved computer. I can sulk and grunt and scream at the machine, but it still works for me. Now isn't this the ideal boyfriend!
Let's begin with the drunken bit. I may enjoy the occasional drink or 10, but I'm not an alcoholic. Maybe, mentally. Everyday, I wish I could kick back and have a drink. I can't help but want one, given that my mind is on a roller-coaster ride every single day. By the end of the day, I am so caught up with wracking my brains every 15 minutes, it's difficult to stop. No wonder I'm losing sleep. And hair. I wish it would make me shed some pounds though. All that thinking just make me long for comfort food, and before you know it, a deliciously sinful snack is on my table. Just a snack, no alcohol. That appears on the table when I'm far, far away from work. I dare not be drunk at work, I'm afraid I might say or do something others will regret. I won’t regret it, on the contrary, it'd be nice to get it off my chest :)
There's a disturbed side to every human being. Some hide it carefully, some can't help but show it. I know I'm disturbed when I watch Beauty and the Beast and wonder why Disney promotes bestiality. I know I'm disturbed when I'm having a serious conversation with someone while misinterpreting every other sentence they say and giggling silently over it. But that's just me. I'm sure I have Bipolar Disorder. But it fuels my mind, makes me come up with absurd ideas, and that works for me. A normal life would've killed me by now.
The other day, I was told to 'get more serious'. Had someone said this to me a few years ago, I'd have laughed in their face, flipped the bird and walked out. Things have obviously changed. I thought, why not. Let's give it a shot. So, I dressed more seriously to work. I tried not to abuse. I tried not to joke around with colleagues and focus on my work. You know how it helped? IT DEPRESSED ME!!! I learnt a tough lesson that week - Never ever change yourself just because someone else thinks you aren't good enough. If they can't accept you for the way you are, too bad for them.
I just realised this post sounds abnormally serious. Damn, I have to end this right now. Adios!
The past few days, weeks, even months, have been a blur. Work has taken over my life. I may say I don't care, but I do. I care more than I should. I care enough to lose sleep over a missing word here and there. I care enough to show up even if I'm feeling sick. I care enough to stay back every single day. Not like it gets in the way. I'd rather slave away than socialise, because I don't have to wear a fake smile and passable clothes for my work date - my beloved computer. I can sulk and grunt and scream at the machine, but it still works for me. Now isn't this the ideal boyfriend!
Let's begin with the drunken bit. I may enjoy the occasional drink or 10, but I'm not an alcoholic. Maybe, mentally. Everyday, I wish I could kick back and have a drink. I can't help but want one, given that my mind is on a roller-coaster ride every single day. By the end of the day, I am so caught up with wracking my brains every 15 minutes, it's difficult to stop. No wonder I'm losing sleep. And hair. I wish it would make me shed some pounds though. All that thinking just make me long for comfort food, and before you know it, a deliciously sinful snack is on my table. Just a snack, no alcohol. That appears on the table when I'm far, far away from work. I dare not be drunk at work, I'm afraid I might say or do something others will regret. I won’t regret it, on the contrary, it'd be nice to get it off my chest :)
There's a disturbed side to every human being. Some hide it carefully, some can't help but show it. I know I'm disturbed when I watch Beauty and the Beast and wonder why Disney promotes bestiality. I know I'm disturbed when I'm having a serious conversation with someone while misinterpreting every other sentence they say and giggling silently over it. But that's just me. I'm sure I have Bipolar Disorder. But it fuels my mind, makes me come up with absurd ideas, and that works for me. A normal life would've killed me by now.
The other day, I was told to 'get more serious'. Had someone said this to me a few years ago, I'd have laughed in their face, flipped the bird and walked out. Things have obviously changed. I thought, why not. Let's give it a shot. So, I dressed more seriously to work. I tried not to abuse. I tried not to joke around with colleagues and focus on my work. You know how it helped? IT DEPRESSED ME!!! I learnt a tough lesson that week - Never ever change yourself just because someone else thinks you aren't good enough. If they can't accept you for the way you are, too bad for them.
I just realised this post sounds abnormally serious. Damn, I have to end this right now. Adios!
Mar 2, 2011
Stinkerman
Stinkerman, Stinkerman
Stinks worse than a rotten fish can.
Let's one rip anytime
Makes people wish they were covered in grime.
Smell it? That's stinkermaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn!!!!!!
Stinks worse than a rotten fish can.
Let's one rip anytime
Makes people wish they were covered in grime.
Smell it? That's stinkermaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn!!!!!!
Feb 25, 2011
The Buffet Table
My world has become so twisted, it's unbelievable. Gone are the days where I typed furiously on my computer, trying to finish ten things at a time as loud rock kept me company by blaring through my ears. Now the earphones lie sadly in a forgotten corner, hoping to be picked up at some desperate point. Now, what keeps me constant company is the group of lunatics I sit with. Don't be mistaken, I'm a part of this group. Our mission - eat. bray. laugh. And when the shit hits the ceiling, work.
We are called the buffet table. My excuse is - we are a bunch of writers who use our creative minds to the point of exhaustion and we need constant refuelling. None of us opt for healthy food though. Chips, biscuits, chaat as the day progresses. People may laugh as they walk by, but they definitely stop and grab a bite.
I dedicate this post to my beloved buffet table. Had it not been for you, I would still be the writer with the earphones on. I wouldn't have the constant jokes and innuendos to laugh at. Thank you for awakening the insanity. Thank you for giving me a reason to look forward to the dull and boring Mondays. And thank you for making my weight loss plan go down the drain :)
We are called the buffet table. My excuse is - we are a bunch of writers who use our creative minds to the point of exhaustion and we need constant refuelling. None of us opt for healthy food though. Chips, biscuits, chaat as the day progresses. People may laugh as they walk by, but they definitely stop and grab a bite.
I dedicate this post to my beloved buffet table. Had it not been for you, I would still be the writer with the earphones on. I wouldn't have the constant jokes and innuendos to laugh at. Thank you for awakening the insanity. Thank you for giving me a reason to look forward to the dull and boring Mondays. And thank you for making my weight loss plan go down the drain :)
Jul 2, 2010
My Little Rabbit
Here' another poem I wrote today. It talks about a little rabbit who has many friends...my so called gift to 3 and 4 year olds :)
My little rabbit is cute and nice,
She must be made of sugar and spice.
She loves to drink lemonade on ice,
And eats her vegetables in a trice!
Her friends are cute little sparrows and mice
And squirrels and lambs who are just as nice.
My little rabbit is kind and wise,
I think she's an angel in disguise!
My little rabbit is cute and nice,
She must be made of sugar and spice.
She loves to drink lemonade on ice,
And eats her vegetables in a trice!
Her friends are cute little sparrows and mice
And squirrels and lambs who are just as nice.
My little rabbit is kind and wise,
I think she's an angel in disguise!
Jun 7, 2010
Kaw. Kaw. We have been hired as your friggin alarm!
Dratted crows.
Lately, I have been up at what seems like the crack of dawn. I know we should live by the saying, Early to bed, early to blaah blaah, but that doesn't work for me. And 6 am is not early to rise, it is bloody midnight for me. It just leaves me cranky and sleep deprived all day, making my mood swings worse than a pregnant woman. All this because a lovey dovey crow couple just got married and decided to start their new home on MY window.
They moved in on a Sunday morning. Sunday. My sacred day. The day I spend being lazy. The day I refuse to get up before 10 am. And my new freeloading tenants woke me up at 6:30 am. It wasn't too bright when I woke up, and for a moment, I thought it was just a bad dream. But the voices got louder, and before you know it I was having a full fledged argument with the crows. I questioned the legality of their actions, but the scrawny you-know-whats continued to throw rubbish on my window. Which was quite unfortunate, as my sister's bed is right next to the window and the otherwise spick and span bed now looks worse than a rotting dumpster. After 15 minutes of swearing in multiple languages asking them to leave my window alone, the fight got violent. They brought in reinforcements.
Two more crows joined the home making activity. By now, I was totally losing it. I got out of my bed, picked up my shoe and flung it at the window. Viola! They flew away! I had won the first round of this ferocious battle! Little did I know that there was more to come...
They left me alone on Sunday. By Sunday night, I was sure those pesky paupers wouldn't return.However, Monday morning arrived. My dreadful week begun with a consistent tap tap on my window and loud kaw kaws, like the crows were jammin' on my window. And then on, we established a pattern. I would hurl a shoe at the window ( I kept a few pairs by my bedside, just so I wouldn't run out of battle Armour) and they would make sure I woke up an hour before my alarm rang. I left them all all morning, so they could dump all the garbage of the world on my window. And every evening, I destroyed the garbage palace. After a week of tough battles and creatively violent abuses (from me and the crow family), they caved in. They finally gave up the idea.My room is now crow-nest free and silent again. The shoes still lie beside my bed. You know, just in case...
Lately, I have been up at what seems like the crack of dawn. I know we should live by the saying, Early to bed, early to blaah blaah, but that doesn't work for me. And 6 am is not early to rise, it is bloody midnight for me. It just leaves me cranky and sleep deprived all day, making my mood swings worse than a pregnant woman. All this because a lovey dovey crow couple just got married and decided to start their new home on MY window.
They moved in on a Sunday morning. Sunday. My sacred day. The day I spend being lazy. The day I refuse to get up before 10 am. And my new freeloading tenants woke me up at 6:30 am. It wasn't too bright when I woke up, and for a moment, I thought it was just a bad dream. But the voices got louder, and before you know it I was having a full fledged argument with the crows. I questioned the legality of their actions, but the scrawny you-know-whats continued to throw rubbish on my window. Which was quite unfortunate, as my sister's bed is right next to the window and the otherwise spick and span bed now looks worse than a rotting dumpster. After 15 minutes of swearing in multiple languages asking them to leave my window alone, the fight got violent. They brought in reinforcements.
Two more crows joined the home making activity. By now, I was totally losing it. I got out of my bed, picked up my shoe and flung it at the window. Viola! They flew away! I had won the first round of this ferocious battle! Little did I know that there was more to come...
They left me alone on Sunday. By Sunday night, I was sure those pesky paupers wouldn't return.However, Monday morning arrived. My dreadful week begun with a consistent tap tap on my window and loud kaw kaws, like the crows were jammin' on my window. And then on, we established a pattern. I would hurl a shoe at the window ( I kept a few pairs by my bedside, just so I wouldn't run out of battle Armour) and they would make sure I woke up an hour before my alarm rang. I left them all all morning, so they could dump all the garbage of the world on my window. And every evening, I destroyed the garbage palace. After a week of tough battles and creatively violent abuses (from me and the crow family), they caved in. They finally gave up the idea.My room is now crow-nest free and silent again. The shoes still lie beside my bed. You know, just in case...
Mar 30, 2010
If only...
Yes people, it's time for me to rant again. It's been really hectic for me lately, as the dreaded cookbook came back to me again (seems like the damn book and I are inseparable) and it was just an addition to the ever increasing pile of work waiting for me. Call me paranoid, but I actually dread going to bed at nights because I feel a manuscript might jump out from under it and scream 'I found you! Let's work now!' I shudder at the very thought. Now, I'm going to try my best not to bring up the cookbook, but forgive me if I do, it has somehow made itself an extremely significant part of my existence.
As far as work goes, I have yet to see the light at the end of this dark, never-ending tunnel. Some of the projects can be fun, but the fun factor only helps to a certain extent.Quite often the fun gets into a massive battle with deadlines and rework, and before you know it, the fun factor has lost the battle. By the end of the day, I feel so brain dead, its a wonder I manage to find my way home.
A few years ago, when I was in college, I cam across the famous lines, 'What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare'. Naive as I was at that time, I never thought I wouldn't have time to stop and appreciate the better things in life. I never thought I would be this slave driven, that I would give up the freedom I so dearly cherished for a monotonous life ruled by deadlines and deliverables. When I was in college, I promised myself I would never take on a dull and boring 9 to 5 job. I somewhat kept the promise. Its a 9 to whenever you get done job that may not contain too many exciting moments and now it has become a way of life. No more exploring the streets, sitting by the seaside and watching the sunset, long walks and nights where we just stayed up and talked about irrelevant things. Staying up is not an option any longer unless you're losing sleep by stressing about work, and leisurely strolls fall under the category of wishful thinking. There's no weekend to enjoy, there's just a Sunday, the day where you rest well for the next week. No longer do I spend my Sundays at the movies, or loitering aimlessly on the streets of Colaba. Wasting hours at Cafe Leopold's is now just a memory dying to be revisited. Sitting at Marine Drive and watching the sunset as the waves lick the shore is merely wishful thinking.
Someday, I will go back to these places. Someday I will relive those happy, carefree days. Someday I will gather enough courage to forget about work and spend time doing these little things that can make a lot of difference. But for now, the pile of work grows larger by the minute, and I do not have the courage to dump it and walk out. For now, I must think of these moments as beautiful dreams and tuck them away in a little corner of my mind, allowing snippets to escape and float in front of my eyes as I tackle yet another revert and yet another meeting. Just for now.
As far as work goes, I have yet to see the light at the end of this dark, never-ending tunnel. Some of the projects can be fun, but the fun factor only helps to a certain extent.Quite often the fun gets into a massive battle with deadlines and rework, and before you know it, the fun factor has lost the battle. By the end of the day, I feel so brain dead, its a wonder I manage to find my way home.
A few years ago, when I was in college, I cam across the famous lines, 'What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare'. Naive as I was at that time, I never thought I wouldn't have time to stop and appreciate the better things in life. I never thought I would be this slave driven, that I would give up the freedom I so dearly cherished for a monotonous life ruled by deadlines and deliverables. When I was in college, I promised myself I would never take on a dull and boring 9 to 5 job. I somewhat kept the promise. Its a 9 to whenever you get done job that may not contain too many exciting moments and now it has become a way of life. No more exploring the streets, sitting by the seaside and watching the sunset, long walks and nights where we just stayed up and talked about irrelevant things. Staying up is not an option any longer unless you're losing sleep by stressing about work, and leisurely strolls fall under the category of wishful thinking. There's no weekend to enjoy, there's just a Sunday, the day where you rest well for the next week. No longer do I spend my Sundays at the movies, or loitering aimlessly on the streets of Colaba. Wasting hours at Cafe Leopold's is now just a memory dying to be revisited. Sitting at Marine Drive and watching the sunset as the waves lick the shore is merely wishful thinking.
Someday, I will go back to these places. Someday I will relive those happy, carefree days. Someday I will gather enough courage to forget about work and spend time doing these little things that can make a lot of difference. But for now, the pile of work grows larger by the minute, and I do not have the courage to dump it and walk out. For now, I must think of these moments as beautiful dreams and tuck them away in a little corner of my mind, allowing snippets to escape and float in front of my eyes as I tackle yet another revert and yet another meeting. Just for now.
Jan 30, 2010
Happy New Year? Yeah, right.
This year, every time someone came up to me and said 'Have a great start to 2010', I wanted to punch them. Most of these people knew it wasn't supposed to be that way. One of my best friends was getting married and moving away to the middle of nowhere, two of my close friends who happen to be my colleagues were leaving our dungeon (which in this case, translates to our office'), I had way too much to accomplish and little time to do it. After years of failing miserably at sticking to New Year resolutions, I decided that it was high time I give up making any resolution whatsoever, and finally managed to accomplish that.
It was a little weird having to explain the 'no-resolution'- resolution to people though. Most of them thought I was crazy. I don't see the point anyway. I end up making the same resolutions every year - Watch your weight, be nice to people, plan your time better, don't procrastinate - the same old boring resolutions which i never adhere to. Watch your weight is always on top of my list, though more so because my mum insists I do and my aunt makes weird clucking noises every time I stuff my face with delicious food. But it never works. I welcome the new year with a glass of wine and some calorie-laden delicacy that would make my doctor's eyes pop out of their sockets. I always pass that off as a celebrating thing, and resolve to sincerely stick to the diet the next morning. But breakfast brings with it another tempting story and sadly the poor resolution is forgotten before it has been attempted and as every other year I still end up looking like a hippo.
Coming back to January and leaving my weighty issues aside. I don't like the thought of being parted against most of my friends at one go. My friend and I have been inseparable for the past four years, we've been through a lot of ups and downs together and we have grown up together. She got married about two weeks ago and it seems strange to live so far away from her and not across the corridor as we were before. It is strange not to hang out with her after work, go out for dinner with her almost every other day or even talk about the most irrelevant things possible. And then there's the ditchers, who got out of the dungeon. I am happy for them, it is the best thing that has happened around here in a while now, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to miss them every single day. It has been so great to have a friend sitting right next to me at work and listening to my constant cribbing without ever ignoring me. She has been the friend I could confide in without hesitation, my lunch buddy and of course my partner in crime in all the short jokes (A term only a bunch of us can understand, won't really share that joke with you - you might think we are a mean bunch) And of course, there was Dr. House across the table. Sarcasm figures high on his list and damn, I will miss the jokes and the witty comments. I have no idea what February's going to be like and I am dreading the thought.
January has had more than its fair share of downs but it had a few ups too. An old friend turned out to be more than just a friend, and I am really excited about this turn of events, considering I put it off for too long. And though the year did not really begin on that great a note for me, I am hoping for it to get better as the months go by. Let's hope this indeed turns out to be a great new year for me and for everyone else!
It was a little weird having to explain the 'no-resolution'- resolution to people though. Most of them thought I was crazy. I don't see the point anyway. I end up making the same resolutions every year - Watch your weight, be nice to people, plan your time better, don't procrastinate - the same old boring resolutions which i never adhere to. Watch your weight is always on top of my list, though more so because my mum insists I do and my aunt makes weird clucking noises every time I stuff my face with delicious food. But it never works. I welcome the new year with a glass of wine and some calorie-laden delicacy that would make my doctor's eyes pop out of their sockets. I always pass that off as a celebrating thing, and resolve to sincerely stick to the diet the next morning. But breakfast brings with it another tempting story and sadly the poor resolution is forgotten before it has been attempted and as every other year I still end up looking like a hippo.
Coming back to January and leaving my weighty issues aside. I don't like the thought of being parted against most of my friends at one go. My friend and I have been inseparable for the past four years, we've been through a lot of ups and downs together and we have grown up together. She got married about two weeks ago and it seems strange to live so far away from her and not across the corridor as we were before. It is strange not to hang out with her after work, go out for dinner with her almost every other day or even talk about the most irrelevant things possible. And then there's the ditchers, who got out of the dungeon. I am happy for them, it is the best thing that has happened around here in a while now, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to miss them every single day. It has been so great to have a friend sitting right next to me at work and listening to my constant cribbing without ever ignoring me. She has been the friend I could confide in without hesitation, my lunch buddy and of course my partner in crime in all the short jokes (A term only a bunch of us can understand, won't really share that joke with you - you might think we are a mean bunch) And of course, there was Dr. House across the table. Sarcasm figures high on his list and damn, I will miss the jokes and the witty comments. I have no idea what February's going to be like and I am dreading the thought.
January has had more than its fair share of downs but it had a few ups too. An old friend turned out to be more than just a friend, and I am really excited about this turn of events, considering I put it off for too long. And though the year did not really begin on that great a note for me, I am hoping for it to get better as the months go by. Let's hope this indeed turns out to be a great new year for me and for everyone else!
Dec 16, 2009
Sunday - when luck shines on the restless few
As a student, I never really stopped to think about what a Sunday could possibly mean. For me, it was just another holiday lost in the throng of holidays waiting for me. Summer holidays, Diwali holidays, Christmas holidays. Just another way to let out all the ‘supposed’ stress that education put me through. The days would come and go by with me doing little more than plopping my lazy behind on the couch and flipping through channels. And then I grew up.
I always thought that the end of college spelt freedom for me. For three years, I waited to step out and get myself a wonderful career, earn a lot of money and spend it without a thought. My working friends would smile knowingly and ask me to make the most of my college days, as those were the days where freedom was easy to gain. I, however, thought they were wrong. Now, I often wish I could go back to those times and kick some sense into my tiny little brains. I wish I could go back and tell myself to make the most of my college days. Because lately, freedom is one of those little items in my list of ‘unachievable dreams’.
My first job was not really a job. I barely had anything to do, and as my colleagues often said, it was ‘chilled out’. A year went by, and I did not achieve much, and soon, it was time for me to move on. And then came the real world, crashing down upon me like an avalanche, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I spend 6 days a week, innumerable hours a day, cooped up in what we call ‘the dungeon’ trying to achieve 10 things at one go. That is when I realise how grateful I am for the joy of 'Sundays'.
Throughout the week, the one thing that helps me grin and bear the ups and downs is the thought of the Sunday, my light at the end of the dark and dreary tunnel. A Sunday where I can stay in bed all day doing absolutely nothing. A Sunday where I will not be plagued by alarms, deadlines, lunatic project managers, marketing people who think they are the next David Ogilvy and clients who pay us to communicate and end up doing most of it themselves, because creativity seems to evade them like the plague. A Sunday that is just for me and my crazy thoughts, a break from the daily roller-coaster ride. My day of peace and unashamed laziness. My day to tell the world to go take a hike, because I have the divine right to stay plonked on the bed all day and not give a hoot about a deadline; the client won't die if his brochure says '4-6 hours' instead of '6 hours' for a few more minutes. Something as trivial as this is forbidden to wrench me out of my paradise and fling me into the deepest pits of hell. So here goes, Sunday is MY day. No matter what anyone says or does, Sunday is the one day I refuse to wrack my tiny brains, even for something as inconsequential as deciding on a meal.
I always thought that the end of college spelt freedom for me. For three years, I waited to step out and get myself a wonderful career, earn a lot of money and spend it without a thought. My working friends would smile knowingly and ask me to make the most of my college days, as those were the days where freedom was easy to gain. I, however, thought they were wrong. Now, I often wish I could go back to those times and kick some sense into my tiny little brains. I wish I could go back and tell myself to make the most of my college days. Because lately, freedom is one of those little items in my list of ‘unachievable dreams’.
My first job was not really a job. I barely had anything to do, and as my colleagues often said, it was ‘chilled out’. A year went by, and I did not achieve much, and soon, it was time for me to move on. And then came the real world, crashing down upon me like an avalanche, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I spend 6 days a week, innumerable hours a day, cooped up in what we call ‘the dungeon’ trying to achieve 10 things at one go. That is when I realise how grateful I am for the joy of 'Sundays'.
Throughout the week, the one thing that helps me grin and bear the ups and downs is the thought of the Sunday, my light at the end of the dark and dreary tunnel. A Sunday where I can stay in bed all day doing absolutely nothing. A Sunday where I will not be plagued by alarms, deadlines, lunatic project managers, marketing people who think they are the next David Ogilvy and clients who pay us to communicate and end up doing most of it themselves, because creativity seems to evade them like the plague. A Sunday that is just for me and my crazy thoughts, a break from the daily roller-coaster ride. My day of peace and unashamed laziness. My day to tell the world to go take a hike, because I have the divine right to stay plonked on the bed all day and not give a hoot about a deadline; the client won't die if his brochure says '4-6 hours' instead of '6 hours' for a few more minutes. Something as trivial as this is forbidden to wrench me out of my paradise and fling me into the deepest pits of hell. So here goes, Sunday is MY day. No matter what anyone says or does, Sunday is the one day I refuse to wrack my tiny brains, even for something as inconsequential as deciding on a meal.
Dec 10, 2009
Old Mrs.Higgins
Here's a poem I wrote at work today, something I worked on within 10 minutes!
Old Mrs. Higgins
Had 5 little kittens
She kept them warm and dry.
She wrapped them in mittens,
She was oh so smitten,
And fed them steak and kidney pie.
As the days went by
They gobbled each pie
And grew up to be big, fat cats
They ate and they slept
They stretched and they crept
And scratched Mrs. Higgins' best mats.
Old Mrs. Higgins
Had 5 little kittens
She kept them warm and dry.
She wrapped them in mittens,
She was oh so smitten,
And fed them steak and kidney pie.
As the days went by
They gobbled each pie
And grew up to be big, fat cats
They ate and they slept
They stretched and they crept
And scratched Mrs. Higgins' best mats.
This Christmas, I wish I was invisible
It's been a long time since I visited my blog, forget updating it. Work has been putting me through a freak storm, my thoughts are actually on a roller-coaster ride - from writing fun Grammar activities to finishing a book on the dos and don'ts of pregnancy to promoting a movie I strongly hate - it has been one heck of a joy ride (you should see the way my eyes roll every time they see the word 'joy').
Let's start with the pregnancy book. To expect a 22 year old single woman to write a book on what to expect every single week of your blessed pregnancy is a little too far fetched. Not for this particular client though. It was generously spread out onto my plate. I wont say it was a complete disaster. I can proudly say that I actually know more than most of my pregnant friends and relatives about pregnancy. And for once, the client had nothing to change. It was simply perfect. No 'turn the will to shall', no 'attached seems like a cool word when writing to a pregnant woman about her baby' (well, duh!) no 'freak the pregnant woman out'. Just perfect.
As for the grammar activities, that was the only bright side to this month long journey through the dark tunnel, the one place where I could just let the creativity flow. No annoying client pestering you for ridiculous changes, no project manager breathing fire down your neck for deadlines. Nothing. I would plop down into our creative corner, known as the 'think bar' (Don't get too excited, there is no alcohol in that little corner) and let my thought fly.
The books seem to be coming to an end though. The dark side is taking over. Earlier, I faced one of the most challenging task ever - promoting a movie I detest. Not that it is racist or gory, it is plain and simple daft. You need to realize that children do no fall for lame magic crap anymore. No one needs a pathetic kid with the ability to 'almost die and yet survive' when you have stuff like boy wizards, cooler super heroes and vampires to entice you. And yet, I was forced to churn out lines that would make anybody cringe every single time they so much as glanced at the poster. Courtesy a stuck up marketing executive who thinks creativity comes naturally to her...far from it, the woman is the exact antithesis of the word 'creativity'. The challenging part is to get your creative idea to the client when such blocks of wood stand in your way. Did I say wood? I meant tempered titanium steel.
So Santa Claus, I ask for just one thing this Christmas. The power to be invisible. Even if I misused it by killing someone, I would be doing the world a favour by getting rid of that evil maniac. I need a break too. I work hard to make sure I can enjoy life without any financial glitches coming my way, but I fail to find time to enjoy. My friends greet me with glares instead of affection, my mother has simply given up and my best friend seldom sees me, even though we live right opposite each other. As far as I can remember, last Christmas I asked for a happy life. And i am far from it. Santa Claus, make me happy or the consequences will be fatal. Sorry, I didn't mean that, just be nice and make sure that this Christmas, I am at home with my family having a good time, not rotting away in the dungeon trying to scare a pregnant woman or teach a dumb someone how to roast.
Let's start with the pregnancy book. To expect a 22 year old single woman to write a book on what to expect every single week of your blessed pregnancy is a little too far fetched. Not for this particular client though. It was generously spread out onto my plate. I wont say it was a complete disaster. I can proudly say that I actually know more than most of my pregnant friends and relatives about pregnancy. And for once, the client had nothing to change. It was simply perfect. No 'turn the will to shall', no 'attached seems like a cool word when writing to a pregnant woman about her baby' (well, duh!) no 'freak the pregnant woman out'. Just perfect.
As for the grammar activities, that was the only bright side to this month long journey through the dark tunnel, the one place where I could just let the creativity flow. No annoying client pestering you for ridiculous changes, no project manager breathing fire down your neck for deadlines. Nothing. I would plop down into our creative corner, known as the 'think bar' (Don't get too excited, there is no alcohol in that little corner) and let my thought fly.
The books seem to be coming to an end though. The dark side is taking over. Earlier, I faced one of the most challenging task ever - promoting a movie I detest. Not that it is racist or gory, it is plain and simple daft. You need to realize that children do no fall for lame magic crap anymore. No one needs a pathetic kid with the ability to 'almost die and yet survive' when you have stuff like boy wizards, cooler super heroes and vampires to entice you. And yet, I was forced to churn out lines that would make anybody cringe every single time they so much as glanced at the poster. Courtesy a stuck up marketing executive who thinks creativity comes naturally to her...far from it, the woman is the exact antithesis of the word 'creativity'. The challenging part is to get your creative idea to the client when such blocks of wood stand in your way. Did I say wood? I meant tempered titanium steel.
So Santa Claus, I ask for just one thing this Christmas. The power to be invisible. Even if I misused it by killing someone, I would be doing the world a favour by getting rid of that evil maniac. I need a break too. I work hard to make sure I can enjoy life without any financial glitches coming my way, but I fail to find time to enjoy. My friends greet me with glares instead of affection, my mother has simply given up and my best friend seldom sees me, even though we live right opposite each other. As far as I can remember, last Christmas I asked for a happy life. And i am far from it. Santa Claus, make me happy or the consequences will be fatal. Sorry, I didn't mean that, just be nice and make sure that this Christmas, I am at home with my family having a good time, not rotting away in the dungeon trying to scare a pregnant woman or teach a dumb someone how to roast.
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